


Of Ruffles and Frills

by TalaMayari



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Female Aziraphale, I mean theres kind of a plot but who am I kidding, M/M, PWP, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), because they just wanna get it on, no beta we saunter vaguely downwards like Crowley, theres a bit of roleplay but they cant keep up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalaMayari/pseuds/TalaMayari
Summary: In which Aziraphale decides to wear an old forgotten article of clothing and Crowley wants to take it off.Featuring a female presenting Aziraphale and a male presenting Crowley because they're supernatural entities and what the fuck is gender.





	Of Ruffles and Frills

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this gorgeous art by real.levionok (https://www.instagram.com/p/B04JZx7Fp4n/) and the first thing that went to my mind was "Alright, time to write my first pwp"

It was another typical night for the two supernatural entities.

And by typical, it meant that their bodies were sprawled on Aziraphale’s tartan sheets that have already had the mess miracled away.

“Just a little bit more and all of thisss,” Crowley pinched Aziraphale’s side, earning him a yelp. “Would be covered with bite marks and bruisesss.” The demon snickered, rubbing his face on the nape of the angel.

“And whose fault would that be, hmm?” Aziraphale huffed, though evidently happy. He turned to look back at Crowley and his eyes twinkled. For all the swagger the demon usually showed, there would always be that fond gentleness Aziraphale absolutely adored.

“It wasn’t too much was it? I could always lessen my-”

“Oh hush, dearest. You should know by now that if anything was wrong, I would have told you. And nothing was wrong.” Aziraphale cupped the other’s cheek and gently kissed him.

The afterglow of their love making was one of the many moments Aziraphale loved the most. Oh yes, he did vigorously enjoy the tango they would dance but the sweet caresses that came after would always have a place in his heart.

He pulled away from the kiss and pressed his cheek to Crowley’s chest.

His heartbeat is a lullaby.

—

“Tell me angel, in the 6000 years that we have been living on this rock, have you ever thrown away _anything_ that you’ve owned?”

“Oh come now, it isn’t my fault you didn’t see that box over there.”

“_Boxesss_ angel. Plural. Meaning more than one. Meaning-”

“Yes, yes, I know what you meant!” Aziraphale interrupted. Honestly, there wasn’t anything wrong with keeping a lot of the things you’ve owned over the past few years. Er, centuries. It wasn’t as if he had never thrown anything. Quite the opposite really, if he found that something would be best donated or recycled, he would do so. He just hadn’t really found the time to fix things up again.

“What even is in this? For Satan’s sake, this box looks like it was manufactured during the Renaissance!” Crowley exaggerated. Aziraphale was about to retort back when he looked at the box and his eyes widened.

You see, as neat as Aziraphale tried to be, he couldn’t always place all of his clothes in his closets. He had many closets but he also had more clothes that could not fit said compartments. (Of course, he could always purchase one of those storage rooms but what if he had wanted to have the item within arms reach because he absolutely needed it at the moment? Which is to say not really ever.) So for those he had fond memories with and could not bear to see it go away, he would keep them in certain boxes, each categorised in an arrangement that only the angel understood.

“Oh, be careful with that!” He exclaimed, rushing towards the box.

“Why, what’s in it?”

Aziraphale carefully opened the box and the smell of what would be the equivalent to old books except these were clothes seeped through. It wasn’t dusty or anything (perks of being a celestial being with certain abilities) but it wasn’t entirely fresh either. Nevertheless, Aziraphale found himself picking up the clothing and looked at it with soft eyes.

It was a beautiful pale pink Rococo dress, elaborately decorated with laces and ribbons that obviously showed an aristocratic status back in the days.

“I’ve almost forgotten about this.” Aziraphale murmured. It had already been known that Aziraphale Had Standards, standards being that he would always try to dress in the most noble manner (unless a certain job from Upstairs Management would require him to be more low key). He loved wearing intricate designs with rich textiles and embroidery on his coats and waistcoats. The golden pocket watches that would sling itself in his pockets. The cravats, jabot, everything.

But _oh_, did the angel also love their dresses. Dresses covered in all matters of frills, ruffles, laces, and ribbons. Dresses of all rich colours (except green, he wasn’t too keen on arsenic poisoning) and textures: silk, cotton, velvet, it was truly wonderful. It was also the time when Aziraphale was more liberal in changing his corporation because not to indulge in the sin of vanity, but he’ll be damned if he said he didn’t look good in those dresses with an ample bosom. He wasn’t really a fan of the excessively cinched waists but Beauty Is Pain.

Crowley also loved to change things up and dress in all kinds of clothing as well but he always found the period dresses a little too much in the way that _Do I Really Need To Wear All Of This Because I Cant Bloody Move_. So it’s safe to say that whoever had the most comfortable but still exceptionally fancy clothing at that time, that was what Anthony J. Crowley would most likely go for. Aziraphale gently brushed his fingers over the intricate patterns when he noticed that Crowley was staring at him.

“Crowley? Whatever is wrong, my dear?”

“Ah. No. Nothing’s wrong. Just. Haven’t seen that one in a long time.” Crowley managed to say. Aziraphale suddenly felt giddy.

“Oh! So you do remember this!” He said happily.

“Of course I would. 1756 or something. That ball with that nobleman. Can’t really recall who but I remember he was a complete twat.” Crowley scoffed, trying to brush it off.

“You looked absolutely wonderful in your suit, did I mention that?” Aziraphale smiled. “Black and gold are truly your colours.”

“It’s a classic combination so nothing to it.”

“Ah, but it depends on who wears it, doesn’t it? That nobleman. The one who hosted it. He wore the same colour scheme but he was absolutely horrendous. Really now, couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Aziraphale shuddered at the memory.

“Well he got what he deserved anyway. Finally rotting in one of the deepest pits in hell. 7th circle I think.” He grinned.

“Hold on, I knew he wasn’t a very fetching person but did he truly live a life that merited ending up there? He seemed more like the first circle to me.”

“Who’sss the demon among us again, angel?”

Aziraphale frowned. There was a bit of an edge to Crowley’s voice but he didn’t want to press on. It wasn’t worth arguing about.

“Well I have to go for now. Promised Anathema to help her with some occult stuff. You know, spooky. Opposite of love. The works. Film and wine at my flat later?”

“Of course dear. You take care on your way. Do drive at a more reasonable speed limit.”

“I’ll try.” Crowley’s lips quirked. He was about to get out of the store when he paused.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, love?”

“You. You also looked good. That dress.” Crowley gestured towards the article of clothing Aziraphale held. “Would have been nice to have danced with.”

Then the demon left.

Aziraphale frowned. He was quite sure that he had also danced when he wore the dress. Danced with quite a lot of fine gentlemen really! They were quite pleasant and forgiving even when he wasn’t very good at - _oh_.

Ah. Well now he understood.

He looked at the dress thoughtfully. It was aged but nothing a little miracle couldn’t fix.

—

Crowley arrived a little late for Aziraphale’s standards, but he knew the angel wouldn’t really mind. After all, he was doing Anathema a favour and Satan did Aziraphale dote on the witch.

He entered his flat and the first thing he noticed was how there was a familiar sweetness in the air. He wasn’t sure where he knew the scent from, but he knew it was something from the past. There was also classical music that played in the background, but that wasn’t really surprising since Aziraphale was there.

“Angel?”

“Just here, dearest!” A feminine voice called back.

Well that was different. Being supernatural entities, this wasn’t unusual for them. They’d go back and forth with whatever they felt like for the moment but Aziraphale hadn’t really bothered for quite some time. Something about it being harder to dress up in the fashion he preferred in these modern times. Well, it was more difficult to blend in with Edwardian era dresses as opposed to his usual tartan tandem.

Perhaps the angel had decided to finally give modern clothing a try.

Which was false. Completely false. Instead he was met with a beautiful feminine presenting angel in an elegant and elaborate pink Rococo dress. The dress she wore centuries ago.

For lack of a better term, Aziraphale was fucking gorgeous.

“I’m sorry Crowley, I didn’t understand your frustration earlier but you said it yourself, there’s nothing but the present now, right?” Aziraphale smiled, chuckling a little at the sight of the gawking demon. “I must say though, I have forgotten how difficult it is to get in these dresses.”

Crowley finally snapped back to reality and walked towards the angel. She looked exactly as she did back then. Luscious curled hair neatly fixed with a rose. Soft pink lips and blushing cheeks that complimented the alluring dress she wore. Which also made a certain anatomical feature look better but that wasn’t the point.

He didn’t really contemplate on it much because whatever form the angel took, he would love them all equally (as it must be known that in the beginning, even before the garden, they were nothing but light and grace) but _Satan Give Him Strength_.

“Well don’t just stand there. You have to change as well!” She looked at him expectantly.

He raised a brow.

“I think you know that between the two of us, I’m not one to keep _all_ the thingsss I’ve owned.”

She pouted.

For someone’s sake this wasn’t fair. Of course, Crowley gave in and miracled himself a suit. The same black suit with the golden accents he had also worn to the ball. Aziraphale smiled.

“You really did look handsome in that suit.”

Before his cheeks could be flushed with more rouge, he held a hand out.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

Aziraphale giggled as she took his hand.

“I’d be honoured.”

Angels don’t dance, but we already know Aziraphale was an exception to the rule (that is, if it’s the gavotte we’re talking about). Demons dance, but it isn’t what you would call good dancing. Crowley wasn’t particularly an award winning dancer, but he was the best among the demon folk. Meaning he could actually dance well if he tried hard enough.

He placed one hand on her hip, the other clasping her own softer ones. Then they moved. It started out slow, a little clumsy, but still had enough grace that they wouldn’t step on each others feet. Eventually, they got into the more fluid rhythm of a waltz. The demon felt a little more adventurous and even added in a twirl and dip or two in the mix and to his delight, they didn’t end up face flat on the ground. Aziraphale laughed.

“My dear, I am enjoying this immensely but you ought to loosen up a little!” She pressed her body closer until they eventually found themselves in a more intimate position with her cheek pressed to his heart. The dance went slower.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to dance like this in that ball.”

“Well, it wasn’t as if we could get away easily back then. That and nobody knew one was in love with the other.”

Aziraphale chuckled and looked up at the demon. Soft powder blue eyes met with golden serpentine ones. He closed the distance between them and kissed her. Just like their dance, it started out slow. He meshed their lips together and sucked on her bottom lip, earning a moan from the angel. Pleased, he took the opportunity to slide his forked tongue inside her mouth, languidly tasting her. For some reason, she tasted sweeter than usual.

Her hands traced itself upwards until she had her arms around his neck, her hands brushing through his hair. The kiss went deeper, more fervent, with droplets of saliva trickling down their lips. Thank someone they had no need for air because they only wanted to keep going; and that was what Crowley precisely did. His hand snaked his way from her waist to her bosom and gently squeezed her breast. She moaned against his mouth as he started massaging it more tenderly. Aziraphale felt something hard poking at her leg and her lips quirked before pulling away.

Crowley’s eyes were tinged with love and lust and she shuddered. The angel leaned in and whispered to his ear.

“Don’t you think you should take me to bed now, kind sir?” She slightly tilted her head and nipped his lobe. 

Crowley growled. So that’s what she was playing now.

He swiftly carried her in his arms bridal style and a little hurriedly rushed to the bedroom. Aziraphale giggled.

“Goodness, how long have you been waiting for this?”

“Don’t get coy with me now, angel. You know how long.”

He would drop her roughly on the bed but he was not in the mood to have his libido killed by an angel fussing about their delicate dress.

He set her down on his bed and looked at the heavenly curvy figure hungrily. Her dress was slightly hitching up, revealing thick and soft thighs. Her face thoroughly flushed red and her arms splayed out. Thank someone she wasn’t wearing a petticoat underneath but instead opted for thick layers of cloth, otherwise that would have been more of a trouble to rip off.

He kneeled down and started to pepper kisses riding up from her ankles to her legs, lightly nipping so that he wouldn’t rip the stockings she was wearing. As he got nearer to her thighs, the smell of her arousal made his cock twitch with excitement. He would have miracled all of the clothing away but he wanted to make her wait. If she was going to be playing a little game, he was going to indulge her gladly.

Crowley carefully started to peel the stockings off when he felt the angel squirm underneath him. He smirked.

“Oh do hurry up my dear, it’s getting to be quite unbearable.” She whined.

“Ah, but tis not an easy endeavour to be undressing you from all these layersss. Patience is a virtue as they say.” He grinned, as he finally took off her stockings. But Aziraphale wasn’t feeling particularly virtuous at the moment. She miracled the excessive layers of her dress to be neatly folded on his desk until all that was left were her corset and underwear.

“Why, that’s cheating, my lady! Pray tell who raised you to be such a minx?” He chuckled as he slithered on top of her and gazed upon the maiden that looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. She hadn’t even bothered to keep her chemise on. No, she was only wearing a tight corset that did wonders for her breasts and fancy delicates in place of the usual 17th century underwear.

He licked his lips. He dipped down and started to graze his teeth on her neck, biting and licking at the flesh while fumbling to take off the corset constricting two wonderful mounds of flesh. For God's Sake he was taking his sweet time and Aziraphale was _not_ going to have it. She raised her leg slightly to press against his crotch, nudging the hardness, eliciting a groan from Crowley. She smirked.

“Dear sir, it seems that you yourself are growing impatient.” She giggled. In a swift movement, she grabbed his wrists and flipped their positions, the angel on top of the demon. Crowley’s eyes widened and saw the smug expression on the angel’s face. In a more quicker pace, she carefully removed the corset. Aziraphale sighed in relief as she was finally free of her constraints, her breasts now out in the open. The cool air breezed over her and she shuddered, feeling her nipples harden.

Crowley grazed his hands over the softness of her belly then she leaned down to give him better access to her bosom. His fingers traced its way up to her breasts then started massaging them, earning him a groan of pleasure. She pressed their lips together again and they hungrily revelled in each others taste. With one hand, he fondled her left breast, slightly squeezing the nipple in between. The other had snaked itself down to her bottom and slowly, he went underneath her underwear and was met with a sopping wetness. He started rutting against her as he finally let his fingers slide past her labia and pressed on her clit. She gasped, her eyes suddenly opening and her mouth freeing itself from his lips as she trembled over him.

“You like that?” He whispered, continuing to play with her clit. Oh how he loved the sounds of pleasure she would give him. Finally, he let one finger slide inside of her and she moaned. In and out it went in a constant rhythm, but never failing to keep his attention on her clit and breast.

“Clothes.” She breathed.

“What is it, angel?” He said casually, as he added another finger, this time slightly crooking it and she groaned.

“Your clothes! Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, just take them off!”

“That’s my angel.” He grinned as he miracled all his clothes off, revealing a completely hardened cock. He pulled his hand off her breast and his fingers from her, making Aziraphale whine. He carefully lifted her off him and gently laid down the whimpering angel down on her back. Finally, he started to peel the underwear from Aziraphale and _Satan Take The Wheel_ her pussy was a sight to behold, glistening under the glow of his dimming lights. His mouth watered.

He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself inside her inviting tight heat but no, he had fantasised about this moment for years, he would make this last as long as he could.

She was about to say something again when she felt a warm heat sucking at her clit. Aziraphale gasped in pleasure as she dug her fingers on the sheets, her feet curling from the sensation. Breathing heavily, she felt fingers slip into her vagina and she cried.

Aziraphale had forgotten how much pleasurable sex was with a cunt and damn would the angel be Making That Effort again. She could feel her climax building up as the demon inserted a third finger, moving inside and out, his fingers slightly crooking to build more friction.

“C-crowley, I’m going to-”

He quickly switched it up and there was now a tongue prodding inside her, the clit being played with his fingers. She didn’t last that much longer and she cried out as she orgasmed, liquid spilling out from her and Crowley drank it all in. His face moved away from her wetness and he looked at her with his striking yellow eyes.

“Oh angel, you look absolutely gorgeous.” He said in a sultry tone. He crawled back up to her and nipped her jaw. She immediately cupped his cheek and started to kiss him again, her tongue immediately passing his lips and she tasted herself on him. It was absolutely maddening.

“Ready for the pièce de résistance?”

“Oh good heavens, just fuck me already.”

Crowley laughed. He loved it when the angel would let out such crude language. Carefully, he positioned himself and let his cock slide inside her. He groaned in pleasure, feeling the tight wet heat clamp against his hardness. He started out easy, not wanting to hurt his love, movement like a steady current. The demon felt her legs wrap around him, deepening his cock inside.

“You feeling good, angel?”

“-low.”

“What’s that?”

“Too slow!” She whined, trying to speed up their tempo and Crowley chuckled. He was about to quicken his pace when she relinquished herself from his prick and flipped him over. Suddenly, her heat enveloped his cock again and she moved. _Satan_ how he loved it when Aziraphale took charge. He thrust up to meet her rhythm and let his hands wander to her breasts and he kneaded the flesh. Aziraphale’s pace was almost brutal, making sure to never let his cock have any breathing space, not that he really minded.

“Fuck angel, you feel _ssso good_.” Crowley moaned. She grabbed a hold of his wrists and placed them on her waist as she dove down to seize his mouth again. Their lips and bodies melded perfectly and with a few more thrusts, they both cried out as their climax peaked, Aziraphale’s pussy milking out every bit of Crowley’s seed.They could have gone on for much longer (Thank someone refractory periods were not something supernatural entities had to deal with) but they both seemed to silently agree that what they wanted now was to just curl up next to each other and cuddle.

Aziraphale lifted herself up from him and _Satan_ Crowley’s cum was dripping down her legs. She gingerly swiped it with her fingers and maintaining eye contact, she dragged it on her tongue. She gave him an innocent look.

Fuck.

He sat up and grabbed her again, this time tumbling down together on the bed, their limbs entangled with one another. Crowley miracled away the mess and they fell into a peal of laughter.

“Have I ever told you how you’re always so good to me?” Crowley smiled, cupping her cheek.

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.” Aziraphale laughed. She looked up at him and placed a short but sweet peck on his lips.

Tangled with one other, they closed their eyes and slept.

But not before Aziraphale remarked,

“You know, I remember you liking the Roaring 20s fashion. You looked really good in those dresses.”

Crowley laughed.

“Alright, angel. Next time."

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote 3 fics back to back and I should really be writing a screenplay now.


End file.
